Ella Holmes
by River's Banner
Summary: Ella Holmes enjoys her life. She loves her family and studying history at university. What happens when James Moriarty comes to town? Will Ella get caught in the web Moriarty spins for her cousin? Will Sherlock and Mycroft be able to save her?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

The professor's voice had turned into a fuzzy drone in Ella's ears. She loved history and had great hopes for this class until she met the professor. This man could turn the most salacious scandals of the medieval aristocracy into slumber inducing white noise. In an effort to stay conscious, Ella's turned her attention to the professor himself.

She observed him as he propped himself on his stool. The faded suit and socks would initially suggest that this professor lived on a modest salary. However, the glasses that he kept shoving up his nose were new. The watch he wore was of an older style, almost antique, but the leather of the band was supple and in good repair. A sentimental piece. The disheveled state of his hair and the stained rings in the tea cup on the desk suggest a man whose mind is not focused on the present. Judging by the tattered state of the books piled on the desk, chair and floor, they were what kept his attention.

Conclusion: This was a professor who made a moderate salary, enough to keep the important things in his life well kept but not enough to update his wardrobe regularly. He was a scatter-brained man who preferred the contents of his books to reality. The archetype of university professors.

_Boring!_ She smiled as she heard her cousin's voice sound in her mind. Sherlock wouldn't last 30 seconds in this setting. A room full of stereotypical university students and this paragon of dusty professors would make him crazy. She pictured what he would do if he were there with her. He would either start deducing people (loudly) in an effort to amuse himself or he would do something completely destructive in order to get the class dismissed.

Her giggle was masked by the scraping of chairs on the floor and the shuffling of people gathering their things to leave. As she stacked her own books, Ella contemplated the odds of Sherlock being home if she dropped by Baker Street that afternoon. Mycroft had told her last evening that Sherlock had gotten a flatmate three weeks ago.

Annoyance flared as she thought of how her cousins often 'forgot' to communicate details with her. She had seen Sherlock for lunch three, no, four times in the last three weeks and she bloody _lived_ with Mycroft and neither of them thought to mention it until yesterday.

By the time she had gotten off the tube and walked to Baker Street, Ella's irritation had subsided in favor of curiosity. Who was this flatmate that had put up with Sherlock for three weeks already? Having grown up with Sherlock, she knew exactly how challenging it was to live with him. Mrs. Hudson was practically a saint for all that she dealt with having him as a tenant for so long.

As she let herself in and climbed the stairs, she didn't hear anything. Pushing the door open revealed an empty flat. Ella sighed and dropped her bag on the floor. She decided she would wait for a bit. She grabbed one of her texts and sank comfortably into Sherlock's large leather chair. She had been wanting to re-visit some of her books anyway. Sherlock's place was as good as any to read, so long as it was unoccupied.

This was her last year of undergraduate study and she wanted to get a head start on choosing a topic for the thesis she would work on during her graduate years. She immersed herself in the colorful world of renaissance Italy and started to take notes on possible research topics.

After several hours of reading, Ella leaned to stretch her neck. She pondered if she should chance looking for a snack in Sherlock's kitchen when she heard the door slam open downstairs. She discerned a muffled voice, one familiar set of footfalls and one unfamiliar. Conclusion: Sherlock and the flatmate were home. She inserted her notepad and pen into her text book and closed it as she looked expectantly at the door.

A rather flustered looking man with blonde hair entered first. "Sherlock, you can't just expect a woman who's just lost her husband to respond well to you yelling at her! You have to understand –" The man stopped short as he noticed Ella. Sherlock, unfazed by the lecture he was receiving walked briskly into the flat, loosening his scarf. He looked at Ella; his mouth tilted into a half-smile and proceeded into his bedroom.

Ella smiled as Sherlock passed her and walked up to the flatmate.

"Hello, I'm Ella Holmes. You are Sherlock's new flatmate. It's lovely to finally meet you." She extended her hand to the flatmate.

He shook her hand with a confused look on his face as he replied "John Watson. Um, it's good to meet you too".

Sherlock emerged from his room without his coat and scarf and Ella called to him "Sherlock, why haven't you told me you have a flatmate? "

His reply was a wave of a hand as he walked into the kitchen.

Ella sighed loudly and turned back to John Watson with a smile. "Well, Dr. Watson, how do you find living with Sherlock thus far?"

The confused look on John's face deepened. He shook his head and answered "Sorry, I haven't told you I'm a doctor. Do you do the same thing Sherlock does? The tell-me-my-whole-life-story-from-one-glance thing?"

Ella chuckled at his assessment of Sherlock's abilities. "No, I'm not nearly as astute as he is. I knew you were a doctor by the way you carry yourself, and the fact that you smell slightly of anti-septic. There are a limited number of reasons why someone might be in a medical environment and smell of anti-septic. Seeing as neither you nor Sherlock are injured, I assumed that you must work in the medical field".

She paused as she saw John's eyes widen. "You stand tall and firmly so I'm guessing you're not a nurse, receptionist or janitor. And we've just ruled out that you're not a patient. That leaves doctor."

Sherlock re-entered the room and handed her a tin of biscuits. "Ella, you disappoint me in how little you observe."

"Little?" John cut in "How little she observed? She told me almost as much about myself as you did, Sherlock".

"Exactly, John. She told you almost as much as I did. Only she did it by _assuming_ and _guessing_."

Ella rolled her eyes as she inspected the tin for any unsavory contents before taking a bite of a biscuit and plopping back down into Sherlock's chair. She grinned at the look of annoyance on Sherlock's face at her occupying his seat. He turned to the wall and began tacking bits of paper and photos to the papered surface.

"So," John began as he sat in the chair across from her. "You're Sherlock's sister?"

"Cousin." Sherlock corrected without looking away from the wall.

"I was brought up by my Aunt and Uncle as my parents died when I was very young." Ella supplied.

Shaking his head, John said good-naturedly "Well, you must've had an interesting childhood growing up in a house with Sherlock and Mycroft."

Ella's expression stiffened. "You've met Mycroft." She stated.

Unsure of what to say, John looked from her to an oblivious Sherlock.

Ella felt her earlier irritation return as she rose from her seat and began gathering her books "It was lovely meeting you John. I'm glad Sherlock's met someone who can stand him for more than a few minutes at a time."

John stood "Um, It was nice meeting you as well. Listen, it's nearly six, would you fancy some dinner?"

"She's not interested, John." Sherlock announced, turning his attention from the wall to stare sternly at his flatmate and his cousin.

Ella glared at Sherlock.

"No!" John quickly clarified "I was... I just thought she might want to eat with us. Both of us."

Seemingly satisfied (or bored), Sherlock turned back to his collage of papers and photos.

"Thank you for the invitation, John. I think I'll eat at home this evening. I suddenly have a desire to speak to Mycroft". Ella declined politely. "Anyway, it appears as though you have a case".

Ella shouldered her bag and tossed her scarf on as she walked over to Sherlock. She bumped his arm with her shoulder to get his attention. "Love you". She said simply as she looked up at him.

Sherlock's only response was a small smile as he continued to study and add to the web of information on the wall.

"Again, it was lovely to meet you John. I'm sure I'll see you soon." Ella called out as she exited the flat.

As the door closed behind her, John marveled at the odd exchange that had just taken place. Ella seemed nice and…normal...ish. She did deduce him but did so without the abrasive arrogance of Sherlock and the snobbery (and kidnapping) that seemed to be Mycroft's style. She and Sherlock clearly got on and meeting her was certainly easier than meeting Mycroft.

He shook his head. He was going to have to learn not to be surprised at the strange and unexpected things he encountered living and working with Sherlock. Putting Ella Holmes out of his mind, he walked over to the detective and the wall to focus on their newest case.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

She shouldn't have been surprised to see the unmarked black sedan outside of 221B when she reached the bottom of the stairs. Mycroft's assistant stepped out of the car as Ella shut the door to the flat behind her.

"Hello, Anthea." Ella chirped as she slid into the back seat.

"Hello, Ms. Holmes" Anthea said blandly.

"You know, you've been working for Mycroft for a while now. You can call me Ella."

Without looking up from her phone, Anthea replied "Mr. Holmes gave me instructions."

"Of course". Ella sighed.

As the car navigated the London streets in silence, Ella reflected on her meeting with Sherlock's flatmate. John seemed to be a good person. A very normal person, oddly enough. He obviously had a great deal of patience as he had lasted these three weeks around Sherlock.

Ella was generally very good at reading people. Not in the same way as her cousins. She couldn't make deductions about their lives with pin-point accuracy. Unlike Sherlock and Mycroft, Ella gauged interactions using emotions, hers and those on display by the other person. In this way, she formed instinctual opinions of people. She was rarely ever wrong.

Ella concluded that she liked John. His presence might prove beneficial to Sherlock if he wasn't scared away. Although, Ella suspected that since he hadn't run for the hills yet, he wasn't likely to.

The car rolled to a gentle stop outside of the London home she shared with Mycroft.

"I hope you have a good evening, Anthea". Ella said as she exited the car.

Anthea made no reply as she stood next to the open car door staring down at her phone.

Ella shook her head as she entered the house.

"Mycroft!" she yelled. "That poor girl of yours has absolutely no personality!"

Dumping her bag and her scarf in the entryway, Ella made her way into the main room where she found Mycroft perched in his chair with the evening newspaper in hand.

"I keep trying to get her to converse and I don't feel her lack of response is entirely at your instruction." Ella continued. "She's either very rude or very dull."

"Well, Ella, if you felt less and reasoned more you may come to the conclusion that her very simple, very lucrative job depends on her following my instructions." Mycroft said without looking away from his paper.

"Mycroft, I-"

"Are you ready for dinner, my dear?" Mycroft said quickly, folding his paper.

"I think Martha has prepared some sort of roasted chicken for us." Mycroft elaborated as he rose from his chair and moved past her into the kitchen.

Ella kept her irritation in check as she went to her bedroom to freshen up for dinner. As she washed her hands, neatened her hair and changed out of her school clothes, Ella thought over what she wanted to say to Mycroft.

It frustrated her to no end that Mycroft kept so many details from her. She understood his desire to be a protective brother (or cousin) figure to her but it was starting to get out of hand.

When she entered the dining room, Mycroft was seated at the head of the dark wood table; his customary evening glass of scotch in hand. Ella took her usual seat to the right of him.

"Mycroft, why did you keep Sherlock's flatmate a secret?" She asked him flatly.

"Ella, it was hardly a secret. I told you about it myself yesterday."

"Yes. Three weeks after you learned about it." Ella pointed out. "Sherlock not telling me I can half understand. Why, exactly, did you feel it necessary to delay sharing this with me?"

"In Sherlock's line of work, there are numerous people of, shall we say, less than shining characters" Mycroft said with a smirk.

"I wanted to ensure that the individual which Sherlock was bringing into his home was not one of them before he exposed the two of you to potential harm."

"I understand your protectiveness, Mycroft. What I'm not sure _you_ understand is that I am an adult. I've legally been an adult for four years now, and Sherlock has been for eight longer than that"

"I am aware of your age, Ella." Mycroft said with a hint of annoyance.

"My point is, I just want you to trust me enough to treat me like an adult." Ella finished.

She stared earnestly into his eyes, searching for a hint of his understanding.

"I will keep that in mind" Mycroft answered with a nod, in his ever-controlled tone.

Ella was not entirely convinced that he _would_ keep her request in mind. But, she realized, that was probably the best response she was going to get out of her calculating cousin.

They continued their meal as they chatted idly about their respective days. After displaying one too many yawns for Mycroft's liking, he suggested Ella retire for the evening.

Ella rolled her eyes "Thank you, Mycroft. You're making a wonderful start of treating me like an adult." She said, her voice thick with sarcasm.

Mycroft avoided a reply by taking a long sip of his scotch.

Ella shook her head with a chuckle. "Goodnight, Mycroft."

"Goodnight" Mycroft said with an indulgent smile.

"Love you" Ella called as she disappeared from the dining room.

As she carried her plate to the kitchen and ambled to her bedroom, Ella marveled at how little sleep her cousins needed to function. Sherlock could solve the most complex criminal cases while going days without sleep. Mycroft could essentially run the government (and several foreign governments, she suspected) with just a couple hours of sleep each night.

Ella could do little more than make herself some tea if she didn't get her full eight hours per night. She considered those eight hours sacred and would easily sleep for longer if she was able. After her evening routine of showering and cleaning her teeth, she fell into bed. She relished its coziness before falling quickly asleep.

A few rooms away, Mycroft settled into his study for his evening hours' work. He couldn't help but think about Ella's evident frustration with him for keeping John Watson's residency at Baker Street a secret.

In the seven years since his father died, Mycroft had occupied the role as head of the family. He took his responsibility to look after his brother and his cousin seriously. They were the only family he had left and he would be damned if he let anything happen to them, especially after all they'd been through. He would protect them from whatever evils he could regardless of the cost.

He resigned himself to the fact that he would now need to exercise his talents for diplomacy at home as well as work. Because Ella held too important a place in his life and in Sherlock's life to risk her coming to harm.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Ella woke to the sound of her phone's text notification. She checked the time: 6:07 am. She flung her arm out from under the duvet to grope for her phone. She tried to jumpstart her brain to figure out who was texting her so early on a Saturday morning. Before she could locate the phone, it sounded again.

No further reasoning required. Conclusion: Sherlock.

_ Come to Baker Street. SH_

_ I know you've had enough sleep. M said you were sleeping by 9:30. SH_

Ella groaned and debated whether to give in or refuse out of early morning spite.

_No. Still too early._

Bleary-eyed spite won out. She also wanted to discern if he actually needed her there, or if he just wanted to annoy her.

Two more rapid fire messages appeared.

_ I need your help. SH_

_ I waited to ask until you had been sleeping for longer than 8 hours. That was very nice of me. SH_

Ella cracked a smile at that. It was surprisingly considerate of him not to text her in the middle of the night.

_What do you need? _

_Come to Baker Street. SH_

Ella was used to Sherlock's persistence. She could be just as stubborn if need be.

_Unless you're dying, I'm not getting out of bed at 6am on a Saturday. What. Do. You. Need? _

_Stop abusing punctuation. SH_

Before Ella could type out "Stop being obnoxious" She received another message.

It was a picture of a squiggled symbol, like a messy cursive letter "g" or "y" with a straight, horizontal line over it. It was bright yellow and looked like it was done in spray paint judging by the drips that trailed down from the design.

_Any historical significance? SH_

Ella could not recall seeing anything like the symbol before. It didn't appear to be a one-off or a poor rendition of anything she could recognize either. So, she replied.

_ Not to my knowledge._

Several minutes passed in silence. Ella surmised that she was off the hook with Sherlock for the time being.

She knew trying to go back to sleep would be fruitless, so she slipped out of bed and wandered to the kitchen. The house was silent so Ella figured Mycroft had already gone into the office for the day.

After preparing herself some tea and grabbing a banana, she returned to her bedroom. Tying her sleep-mangled curls into a knot away from her face, Ella sat down at her desk. She was planning to use her Saturday to get ahead in her reading for her Medieval Monarchies class with the depressingly boring professor. She knew that she needed to read her texts in order to absorb the material since she couldn't focus on that dreary man's lectures to save her life.

After hours of reading, highlighting and in-the-margin note-taking, Ella was interrupted by her phone again.

_Come to Baker Street. SH_

Ella rolled her eyes. She did love visiting with Sherlock but he was clearly still involved with his case. He would not be good company. That notwithstanding, the commanding tone of the message inspired her to do the exact opposite of what he asked. She ignored the message.

After roughly three minutes of silence, her phone chirped again.

_I need your help. SH_

Ella typed her reply with more force than was probably necessary.

_ This sounds familiar. Shall I ask "What do you need?" _

After several more minutes of silence Ella was beginning to think that Sherlock had forgotten her. Then her phone sounded again.

_ Hello, Ella. This is John Watson, at 221B. If you are free and could help us out with some grunt-work for a case we could really use another pair of eyes._

Ella laughed. The message was from Sherlock's number. She could just imagine him shoving his phone at poor John and telling him to say something to make her agree to come over.

Before deciding if she wanted to help, Ella reviewed the scope of her reading. She calculated that she had read ahead enough to cover the subsequent six lectures' worth of material. Satisfied with her progress, Ella glanced at the clock. She noted that she had been reading for nearly the whole day. She conceded that a break would be welcome.

_ I'd be happy to help, John. I'll be over soon._

Ella looked into her closet trying to decide what to wear. She wasn't sure what exactly the case work would entail. The last time she helped Sherlock with a case he had her mucking through a bog (they were looking for a body, she later found out). The time before that, they walked through the London streets all night trailing a suspect. She was never sure of anything when it came to helping Sherlock with his work, so she settled for pulling on her most comfortable pair of jeans and a classic white t-shirt.

After cleaning her teeth and washing her face, Ella flipped her head upside-down in the sink and wet her hair. After quickly raking some serum through her curls to keep them from frizzing, she whisked into the entry-way to don her boots, scarf and jacket.

She had the taxi drop her 2 blocks away from Baker Street. That was where Sherlock's favorite Chinese take-away restaurant was. Ella estimated that this was the third or fourth day he had been working on this case. Either way, Sherlock would need to eat, and this restaurant had the only dish in all of London that would tempt him while he was working.

She ordered a variety of things, as she wasn't sure what John liked. She carried the bags of food over to Baker Street and let herself in.

"Hello, I-" Ella stopped as she noticed the stacks of boxes and piles of books that had completely filled the living room and kitchen of the flat.

"Where did all these come from?" She asked curiously

"Victims!" She heard Sherlock call from somewhere to her right.

"Hello, Ella" John greeted her, stepping around a column of books. He relieved her of one of the bags of food.

"You've brought take-away!" John remarked with a smile. "That was very thoughtful of you."

"Yes, well I know how Sherlock gets about eating while he's working and I figured you and I might need some sustenance if we were going to help." Ella said kindly.

She rummaged through the brown paper bag in her hand until she found the carton that she brought for Sherlock. After grabbing a clean looking fork from the drawer in the kitchen, Ella waded through the jumble of boxes and books to where Sherlock was seated.

She held the carton out to him. He didn't notice her extended hand as he flipped through two copies of the same book on his lap.

"Sherlock." She prompted him, "I've brought you brain food."

She heard John chuckle a few stacks over.

Sherlock looked up at her with distracted eyes, noticed the carton in her hand and grabbed it from her.

As she turned away, she was narrowly missed by one of the books Sherlock was just studying rocketing over her shoulder.

"Next! John!" Sherlock shouted angrily.

John came stumbling over with another set of two books and tossed them at Sherlock.

"What exactly are we doing here with these books?" Ella asked.

"The symbols we've been researching are actually Chinese numbers." John explained. "Apparently, they correspond to a sort of code the smugglers are using to communicate using books. We need to find the books that Van Coon and Lukis had in common so we can translate that message." John pointed to one of the pictures in the web of leads on the wall.

It showed a brick wall covered in graffiti. The newest addition to the art appeared to be a series of symbols painted in the same yellow as the symbol Sherlock texted her earlier that morning.

"Chinese smugglers?" Ella said with interest. "I look forward to hearing the whole story behind this one!"

"NEXT!" Sherlock bellowed as another volume went flying.

Ella ignored him and turned to John. "So, John, if you tell me your system for sorting these I'll jump in and get his highness another set to examine."

"Well, I don't really have a system; I am just sort of…" John trailed off as he gestured to the mass of books behind him.

"Yes, well, where are the books you've already sorted?" Ella asked briskly.

She proceeded to corral the chaos into logical groupings of texts. She constructed a method for sorting the books as well as for organizing the books that had already been reviewed. She even got Sherlock to throw most of his books into the same box after rejecting them.

With Ella's system, they worked steadily through the night. John marveled at the Holmes's abilities to remain focused. His eyes grew weary and he dreaded the prospect of the day ahead of him working a full shift at the clinic.

Somewhere in the flat a faint beeping noise sounded.

"That's my alarm." John said wearily as he roughly massaged his eyes. He trudged in the direction of his bedroom.

"Sherlock, there's just this last set of books in common." Ella said as she placed the books next to him on the floor.

He shot the books a disgusted look. "No."

Ella shoved the two copies of **A Pictorial Guide to Provence** aside with her foot and plopped next to Sherlock on the propped her head against his shoulder in exhaustion.

"Sorry nothing turned up." She sighed.

They sat like that for a while. Sherlock was staring straight ahead, likely sorting through his mind palace for the answer. Ella was fighting sleep.

John re-entered the living room, shrugging on his jacket. He was a bit surprised to see Sherlock allowing Ella to lean on him. Since meeting Sherlock, he noticed that physical contact of any kind seemed to be something the detective avoided.

"I'm off to the surgery." He announced. "Ella, are you staying or do you want to share a cab?"

"Oh, um, yes. I'll catch a cab with you." She replied with sluggishly. "Let me just put the take-away into the fridge." She said with a groan as she picked herself up from the floor.

Ella disappeared into the kitchen with the brown paper bags. John waited while Ella emerged and gathered her things.

"Good luck with your case, Sherlock. Love you." Ella said, tying her scarf.

Sherlock continued to stare into space, his chin now resting on his peaked hands.

John noted that Ella did not seem affected by Sherlock's lack of response.

"Ready?" Ella asked John as she started past him down the stairs.

"Oh, yeah, sure." John answered as he followed her out of the flat.

Inside the cab,Ella could tell John wanted to ask her something. He kept glancing over at her with a furrowed brow and his mouth poised; then he would pause and go back to looking out the window.

"Something on your mind, John?" Ella questioned.

"No." He replied. Then, he seemed to think better of his question and amended "Well, yes, actually."

"Your relationship with Sherlock is…Well, you seem to get on." John struggled to form his thought. "That is, you seem very caring towards him and he's just…"

"He's just Sherlock." Ella finished for him.

"Yes." John agreed. "That doesn't ever bother you? How he acts, I mean?"

"I grew up with him. I was raised by his parents, you know, so I've had my entire life to learn how to communicate with him". Ella explained.

"If you don't mind my saying, it seemed like you were the only one communicating just then." John remarked.

"It may seem that way." Ella conceded. "Sherlock sort of has his own language. He doesn't just say 'I love you' or 'thank you' the way you and I would. He communicates his appreciation in other ways."

John considered Ella's perspective on Sherlock's behavior. He had not given any thought to how Sherlock communicated. He felt a bit guilty when he realized that most of the time he spent with the detective, he focused on all the ways in which his communication skills fell short.

John must have been deeper in thought than he realized as he was startled when Ella bid him a good day at work.

"Oh, right. Um, let me give you something for the cab." John fumbled to extract his wallet from his pocket.

"No need, John. I'll pay for it." Ella stated simply.

"No, you don't need to-" "John, I'll pay." Ella insisted. "I don't have the same aversion to spending Mycroft's money that Sherlock does." She said with a teasing smirk.

John cracked a tired smile at her remark. "Right. Thanks, Ella."

She waved as John shut the door to the cab.

Ella all but flopped out of the cab when it arrived at the townhouse.

After trudging through the entry way, her gaze fell on Mycroft standing in the kitchen with a cup of tea.

"Good morning, Ella. How are Sherlock and Dr. Watson?" He inquired with his usual patronizing smile.

"No luck with Sherlock's smuggling case." She informed him. "Poor John is on for a full shift at the surgery he where he's working."

"Poor, John indeed." Mycroft agreed, as Ella passed him toward her bedroom.

"I'll be asleep until next week, if you need me." She called back to him before collapsing into bed.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Ella emerged from the fog of sleep with a painful tingling in her left arm. She realized she had not moved since falling into bed that morning. She slowly rolled her neck and shoulders trying to ease the stiffness that had set in while she slept.

After stretching for several minutes with little relief, Ella decided that a hot shower would remedy her sore muscles.

Ella reveled in the feeling of the near scalding water easing the tension from her body. It had been a while since she had pulled an all-nighter and her neck and shoulders were not thanking her for it. She just hoped all of her and John´s hard work sorting those books contributed something useful to Sherlock´s case.

She lost track of how long she had been standing under the jet of steaming water, when she was jolted out of her reverie by pounding on the bathroom door.

"Ella! I need a date tonight." Sherlock shouted through the closed door.

Ella wasn't entirely surprised. She occasionally acted as Sherlock's date if he needed to blend in a social situation, or if he needed an extra set of eyes.

"Where are we going?" Ella yelled back.

"A Chinese circus." Sherlock replied.

"Okay, what should I wear? Will I need to shave?" Ella inquired as she hurried to finish washing her hair.

"It starts in an hour." was Sherlock's only response.

"Okay. Well, that's a no to shaving then." Ella said to herself.

She quickly finished her shower and scrambled to dry herself. More serum was applied to her curls and a bit of mascara to her lashes. She donned her robe and ran out of the bathroom over to her closet.

Dressing for casework was always a challenge for Ella. It was necessary to have freedom of movement but not stand out in a crowd. She selected a pair of dressy trouser jeans and a structured white blouse and threw on a delicately knit, nude cardigan and a belt. She zipped on a pair of black boots with a low heel and quickly grabbed her purse.

Sherlock was waiting for her in the living room. It looked as though he and Mycroft had just finished an argument. They were seated on opposite sides of the room. Sherlock was wearing an expression of deep annoyance while Mycroft looked as though he had smelled something unpleasant.

"Ready?" Ella asked, slightly out of breath.

"Yes." Sherlock replied tersely.

"Do keep yourself out of harm's way, Ella." Mycroft cautioned her.

"Of course, Mycroft." Ella replied as she followed Sherlock in the entryway. "Love you!" She called back to him.

Ella knew Mycroft disapproved of her helping Sherlock with his cases. She never deliberately put herself in danger but she had ended up in some dicey situations all the same. She tried to spare Mycroft the details but she was never sure how much he really knew. With his job in the government, she suspected that he was able to find out quite a lot.

Sherlock was waiting with her wool coat in hand. They stepped out into the chilly evening air. They were lucky to catch a cab quickly.

"So, is this circus a cover for the smuggling, or do they smuggle acrobats?" Ella inquired.

"They smuggle ancient Chinese artifacts." Sherlock replied distractedly, looking out the cab window.

"Oh, artifacts are probably much more lucrative than acrobats." Ella said playfully.

Sherlock shot her a look of mock annoyance, his eyes teasing.

When they arrived at the venue, Sherlock held the cab door open for her and offered her his arm. Ella was always surprised that on their "dates" Sherlock could behave in a socially acceptable way. While on a case, it behooved him to blend in and not treat a companion as would a high functioning sociopath.

Sherlock suddenly spotted John and his date and commenced dragging her alongside him as he jogged to catch up to them. _There goes the chivalrous behavior_. Ella thought amusedly.

They reached John as he stood at the box office.

"Oh, no. I think there's been an error. He booked two." John said politely to the attendant.

"And then I phoned back and got two for us as well." Sherlock informed John.

John and his date turned around. John looked less than pleased.

Ella quickly realized that Sherlock had not informed John that the circus was related to the case. Nor, did it appear, that John was aware that she and Sherlock would be joining them.

"I´m Sherlock." the detective said abruptly to John's date.

"Sarah" The woman replied confusedly.

"Hello, I´m Ella Holmes. It´s lovely to meet you." Ella said brightly as she stuck her hand out to Sarah.

Sarah glanced at John before shaking her hand tentatively.

"Join me for a stop in at the loo before the performance?" Ella asked.

Before Sarah could respond, Ella had linked their arms and started walking to the ladies room. Her aim was to give Sherlock and John a few moments to sort out their miscommunication.

From their short conversation in the loo, Ella gathered that this was John and Sarah's first date. She also surmised that Sarah had no idea that John helped Sherlock with cases; much less that they were on a case at that moment. She sighed and put on her best cheerful smile as she and Sarah emerged from the restroom.

"...get off with Sarah!" John yelled in frustration.

"I'm so sorry to have absconded with your date, John." Ella quickly interjected to announce their presence.

John gave Sherlock a final menacing glare and turned to the ladies.

"Ready?" he asked with a forced smile as he gestured toward the performance area.

Sarah gave John a small, confused smile and walked ahead of him into the hall.

Ella turned to Sherlock to see him staring after John with a look of bewilderment. He may have been clueless regarding the date they just crashed but Ella was not. She would feel terribly guilty if John's new relationship was entirely ruined because of this case. Ella looped her arm in Sherlock's and guided the confused detective into the auditorium.

The beginning of the performance was marked by a low, trance-like drum beat. It filled Ella with a sense of unease; which, she supposed, was the point. A female performer ornately dressed as Chinese opera singer emerged to reveal an antique crossbow rigged to fire with a weighted pulley system suspended from the ceiling.

The opera singer demonstrated to the audience how the device fired. Ella started as the arrow hit its target with surprising force.

Another performer was brought out. This one, a man dressed as a warrior.

Ella listened to Sherlock rattle off facts to John and his date about the performance and the implements used in it as the man dressed as a warrior was tied to the target.

The crossbow's firing mechanism was engaged by the piercing of a bag of sand. The sack of sand acted as a counterweight to a tear-drop shaped object which hovered over the trigger of the bow. As the sand ran out of the bag, the tear-drop was lowered closer to the trigger.

The warrior began struggling to free himself.

Despite knowing the odds of the man being killed were very slim, Ella found herself tensing with suspense at the drama unfolding before her.

Ella's attention was momentarily diverted as Sherlock squeezed her hand. She looked up at him as he gave her a wink before slipping through the crowd.

Ella was reminded that Sherlock was on a case. She tried to remain aware of her surroundings as her cousins constantly admonished her to do. She wanted to be helpful, if she could.

Despite her efforts, the drama of the unfolding escape act and the resonating beat of the drum continued to draw her attention back to the stage.

The drummer increased his tempo as the time for the warrior to escape was running out.

Ella was completely engrossed as she tried to calculate how long the man needed to loosen his bonds.

At the last possible second, the warrior freed himself and ducked down as the crossbow sent its arrow hurtling at the target. The audience let out a collective gasp and then round of enthusiastic applause.

"How about that." John said as he looked over to his left. When he saw only Ella standing next to him he gave her a curious look.

Ella returned it with a smile and gestured that he should pay attention to Sarah who was clinging to him in the aftermath of the dramatic stunt.

John gave an incredulous shake of his head before returning his attention to his date and the stage.

As the circus continued, Ella kept alert for any signs of Sherlock. She wasn't waiting for long.

Scarcely a few minutes into the next act, the curtain that comprised the back wall of the stage was ripped down by her cousin trading blows with the warrior from the crossbow stunt.

"John!" Sherlock shouted for the doctor's assistance.

As John hurried into the fight, the audience ran screaming for the exits.

In the scuffle, the Chinese warrior's fist collided solidly with John and sent him reeling back into the mass of curtains. Without John, Sherlock was quickly losing the upper hand against his opponent.

Ella started forward trying to think of something to do to help when she saw Sarah grab a plank of wood. She was holding it in front of herself defensively.

"Sarah!" Ella called urgently.

Gaining the woman's attention, Ella made a swinging motion with her arms and pointed to the warrior. Sarah took her meaning and nodded grimly.

As Sarah advanced on the brawling men, Ella ran over to John. She grabbed fistfuls of velvet curtain as she tried to disentangle him.

"Are you alright?" She questioned worriedly.

"I'm alright." John answered with a groan.

She had just released all of John's limbs from the folds of curtains when she heard the crash of the wood plank hitting the warrior's helmet.

"Good. It's time to go." Ella said as she hauled on John's arm to get him into a standing position.

As Sarah hurried over to the two of them, Ella whipped her head around to locate Sherlock.

Ella's stomach clenched when she saw the warrior staggering toward him sword in hand.

However, thanks to Sarah's skills with a plank, the man was hindered enough to allow Sherlock to evade him easily.

Seeing that Sherlock was unharmed, John and Sarah sprinted out of the building.

Sherlock raced over to Ella, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her into a run beside him.

_So much for trying to help John salvage his date._ Ella thought to herself as they fled through the darkened London streets.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Ella lost count of the number of blocks they ran before catching a cab to Scotland Yard.

The Detective Inspector working Sherlock's smuggling case was called Dimmock. He didn't appear to believe Sherlock's theory about the circus performers being members of a smuggling gang. To Ella, he seemed a rather dull individual overall; he was certainly no Lestrade.

With no help from the police, the four found themselves back at 221B.

Ella walked straight to Sherlock's chair and collapsed into it with a sigh. She was still out of sorts from the book-sorting marathon the previous evening.

As Sherlock and John discussed the case, Sarah looked a bit displaced. Ella was just going to invite her to sit down when Sarah announced awkwardly "Well, I think maybe I should leave you to it."

Sherlock was quick to dismiss her but John convinced his poor date to stay.

Ella darted into the kitchen to help him find something edible to offer her.

She found him frantically rustling through cabinets.

"Anything?" She asked him quietly.

"There's nothing but mouldy olives and body parts!" John ranted in a whisper.

"I'll just run down to Mrs. Hudson's." Ella replied reassuringly. "I'm sure she'll have something."

Ella returned a few minutes later with a tray of punch and snacks that the landlady had kindly assembled.

"You're a life saver!" John uttered with a grateful smile.

Ella returned his smile and handed the spread to John to serve to his date.

They entered the lounge to an excited Sherlock exclaiming "John, look! Soo Lin – at the museum – she started to translate the code for us. We didn't see it."

"Nine Mill" Sherlock read. Ella could see the gears furiously turning in his mind.

"Maybe it means 'million'" John posed.

"Nine million quid. For what? We need the end of the sentence…" Sherlock thought out loud.

Suddenly he was tearing out of the flat with the explanation of translating the rest of the message from the museum.

John and Sarah watched him run out in disbelief while Ella shook her head and laughed at her exuberant cousin.

"Well, I think I'll leave you two alone for the evening. I believe Sherlock and I have wreaked enough havoc on your date." Ella said as she headed toward her bag and coat by the door.

"Oh, no! Don't go. You must eat with us, or am I the only one who's starved?" Sarah asked, looking to John.

"Do stay, Ella. You were by far the most welcome interruption to our date." John joked.

"Alright. Only if you're sure…" Ella beamed back at them.

With Sherlock and Mycroft for cousins, displays of friendly behavior were in short supply so Ella would enjoy them as she found them.

Ironically, the three of them agreed on Chinese take-away for a quick dinner. Ella phoned in their order to the restaurant two blocks down.

After completing the order, Ella ambled into the living room to see John and Sarah were chatting pleasantly. Deciding not to interrupt them, she pulled out her mobile only to see that she had a text from Mycroft.

_How was the circus?_

Ella covered her mouth to stifle a giggle. She wondered if he already knew Sherlock's reconnaissance at the circus didn't go as planned.

_Fine. It ended up being sort of an interactive type of thing. Sherlock got to be a part of the show. _

Ella knew that her comment would give Mycroft enough info to reassure him that she and Sherlock were alright. She returned her phone to her back pocket.

The doorbell to the flat sounded.

"Blimey, that was fast. I'll just pop down." John offered.

"They should just need a tip, John. The order's on Mycroft's tab." Ella explained.

As he jogged down the stairs to the door, John chuckled to himself at the idea of Mycroft having a tab at a Chinese restaurant.

"Shall I lay the table?" Sarah questioned Ella.

Both women glanced at the dining table covered with various beakers, piles of papers and mysterious spills, stains and scorch marks.

Ella wrinkled her nose."Um, there are some trays just down here that I think might work better." She suggested as she walked down the hall toward John's room in search of them.

Ella wrestled three trays out of the hallway closet.

In years that Sherlock had lived at 221B, she couldn't remember a single time when they had eaten off of that table. Sherlock didn't really prioritize mealtimes (or eating in general) so it made sense that his dining table be used for his experiments.

Ella carried the trays back to the lounge and stopped short.

There were four masked men wearing all black in the flat.

One was supporting an unconscious John, one was in the process of tying up a weeping Sarah and two started advancing on Ella.

Ella took a step back as she stifled the panic welling up in her belly. She ran through what options she had.

Main Exit: No. Men-In-Black numbers 1 and 2 were standing directly in front of it with John and Sarah.

Fire Escape: No. It was out Sherlock's bedroom window to her right. Man-In-Black number 3 was closer to the door than she was.

Phone for help: No. She would never have time to dial before they reached her.

Scream for help: No. That would only endanger Mrs. Hudson who would come running up the stairs.

Fight: No. She was outnumbered and had no weapons aside from the trays in her hands.

Acquiesce: Go quietly, try to retain her phone to text Mycroft. Hope Sherlock would solve the cipher quickly and find them. Wait for John to regain consciousness and distract them long enough for one of the three of them to escape.

Allowing herself to be taken seemed like the only option that would keep everyone safe and provide an opportunity for them to escape.

Ella took a shaky breath. "Alright, gentlemen," She addressed the two thugs closest to her. "I see where this is going."

One of the thugs grabbed her trays and tossed them aside. Ella struggled to keep calm and think rationally as they bound her wrists and ankles, tied a gag on her mouth and a blindfold over her eyes.

_Breathe, my dear. _Mycroft's voice sounded in her mind. Ella had a propensity to hyperventilate when she was upset so she concentrated on taking slow, deep breaths. She knew that losing control of herself now would only hinder their chances at escape.

She heard the characteristic sound of a can of spray paint being shaken. _Excellent! _Ella thought to herself. _They're leaving Sherlock a clue!_

The cold London air prickled her skin as she was shoved into a vehicle. She landed hard on Sarah, the woman's pointy heel stabbing into her ribcage upon impact. The pain in her side brought tears to her eyes.

_Stay calm, Ella. _Mycroft's voice chastised her gently. She took slow breaths as she tried to put her potentially cracked ribs out of mind.

_Focus! What information can you learn from your surroundings?_ Sherlock's voice toned in her brain next.

The only sound Ella distinguished as the car navigated through the city was Sarah's muffled weeping to her left. No sounds from John, signaling to Ella that he was still unconscious.

Their captors too, remained silent. No matter, her suspicion that they were part of the smuggling gang was confirmed when they used their spray paint in the flat.

The car had been in motion for half an hour, give or take a few minutes. They must have been close to the outer parts of London by then, Ella reasoned. She didn't know in which direction they had gone after leaving Baker Street, as the pain in her ribs had initially occupied her attention.

Conclusions: She had no John, an emotionally compromised Sarah and she didn't know their location. She had no weapons, a damaged ribcage and she couldn't get to her phone while her hands were tied in front of her.

_Lovely_. Ella thought grimly. _Nothing to do but wait._

After several more minutes of driving, the vehicle stopped. The three were dragged back out into the cold and damp air and searched. Ella felt her phone being pulled out of her back pocket. The panic began rising again as her only asset was confiscated.

_Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. _Ella coached herself as her wrists and ankles were secured to a wooden chair. She heard a deep groan to her left. John was starting to wake.

Ella's blindfold was suddenly removed and she quickly scanned her surroundings. They were in a stone tunnel lit by a small brazier and a ring of candles. Ella noted that there were grooves in the ground filled with metal. A tramway tunnel, she concluded.

She could see John and Sarah, secured to chairs as she was, to her left. Sarah was still crying and John was awake but had blood trailing down his face from his temple.

Two of the Men-In-Black were there, as was a woman. She was dressed as the Opera Singer from the circus earlier that evening.

The woman slowly walked up to John and addressed him "A book is like a magical garden, carried in your pocket."

John responded with a puzzled stare.

"Chinese proverb, Mr. Holmes." The woman clarified smugly.

Ella's eyes widened in shock. They had confused John for Sherlock! She tucked her chin to her chest and began working to escape the cloth that was wrapped between her lips and tied at the back of her head. She hoped she could free herself and convince the smugglers that they had the wrong man.

She listened as the Opera Singer listed off the reasons why she 'knew' that John was actually Sherlock Holmes.

"Three times we've tried to kill you and your companion: the flat in Chinatown; the museum; tonight at the theatre. What does it tell you when an assassin cannot shoot straight?" The woman said coyly.

Ella's pulse quickened as the Opera Singer pulled out a revolver, pointed it at John and cocked it. Her eyes were glued to the woman as she suddenly compressed the trigger. Ella winced in anticipation of the impact.

Nothing happened. The chamber was empty.

"It tells you they're not really trying." The woman said as her lips curled into a sadistic smile.

Ella worked furiously to inch down the cloth gagging her. Her breath caught in her throat as the Opera Singer swung her torch to illuminate a familiar object covered with a large cloth.

One of the Men-In-Black dramatically whipped the cloth away to reveal the antique crossbow from the circus.

"Everything in the west has its price." The Opera Singer purred.

Man-In-Black number 2 dragged Sarah's chair so that she rested directly in the trajectory of the crossbow.

Sarah let out a muffled shriek of horror.

"So. The price for her life? Information." The woman said circling John's chair. "Where is the hairpin?"

The gag covering Ella's mouth finally slipped down to rest around her neck.

"He wouldn't know!" She shouted urgently.

The woman turned her head to face Ella. "He wouldn't know because he's not Sherlock Holmes."

"Be silent." The Opera Singer spat at her.

"Why did you bring me here?" Ella questioned boldly. "You know who I am." She continued. "I'm Sherlock's cousin."

The Opera Singer signaled to one of the men. He advanced on her.

"Do I look related to this man?" Ella said quickly "His skin is tan and he has blonde hair. My skin is so pale it couldn't possibly tan and my hair is dark and curly."

Ella hoped logic would prevail and the smugglers would stop threatening John and Sarah.

The Man-In-Black reached her. "That man is _not_ Sherlock Holmes." Ella said to him as he towered over her.

"He won't know-" She was cut off by a forceful slap as the back of the man's hand met her face. A small cry escaped her and her eyes blurred with involuntary tears.

Ella struggled to control her breathing once more as the man roughly tied the gag back in place.

When her vision cleared of tears, she saw the other Man-In-Black securing a bag of sand to the firing mechanism of the crossbow.

Ella stiffened as she felt a slight breeze behind her in the shadows.

"Don't move." Sherlock's deep voice rumbled in her ear.

Ella breathing hitched and she felt like she might cry with relief as Sherlock loosened the ropes that bound her wrists to the arms of her chair.

"Stay still until they're distracted." He instructed her as he finished removing the last knot. He laid the ties over her wrists still resting on the arms of the wooden chair. At first glance, she would still look secured to the chair.

"Keep breathing." Sherlock reminded her.

Ella gave a subtle nod in response and took a slow breath. Sherlock disappeared back into the darkness.

"Please!" John shouted, pleading with the Opera Singer to believe him. His eyes were on the sand bag that was spilling its contents and lowering the tear-drop weight closer to the bow.

The woman placed a small black object on Sarah's lap. "You have seen the act before. How dull for you. You know how it ends."

"I'm not Holmes!" John cried in desperation.

"I don't believe you!" The Opera Singer screamed.

"You should, you know." Sherlock's deep voice resonated through the tunnel. He appeared behind John's chair and swung a length of metal pipe at one of the Men-In-Black. The pipe connected with the man's head and he crumpled to the ground.

Sherlock moved toward Sarah when the Opera Singer pointed her gun at him.

If the situation weren't so dire, Ella would've laughed at Sherlock explaining to the woman exactly what would happen if she fired her gun in the tunnel.

"I have no intention of missing." The woman growled at Sherlock.

Suddenly, Sherlock kicked the brazier, throwing the tunnel into near darkness as the woman fired her gun. The bullet ricocheted on the walls of the tunnel but hit no one.

By the meager candle light that remained, Ella saw the second Man-In-Black engage Sherlock.

Ella sprung into action. She quickly loosened the ropes around her ankles. Once she was free from the chair, she sprinted toward Sarah tugging the gag down and out of her mouth.

She dragged Sarah's chair out of the line of fire just as the crossbow let fly its arrow. There was a sickening thud as the arrow met with flesh.

"Sherlock!?" Ella screamed, terrified that he'd been the one hit. In the low light she could not recognize the surviving figure.

"Ella, where is your phone? Someone needs to phone the police to clean this up." Sherlock said calmly from the shadows.

Ella let out a shaky sigh of relief and began to untie Sarah from her chair as Sherlock moved to assist John.

"I don't suppose there's a chance for a second date sometime." John called to Sarah.

Sarah looked at him blankly for a moment before dissolving into a fresh bout of tears. Ella put her arms around the woman.

Flashing lights soon illuminated the tunnel as the police arrived on the scene.

Ella was able to get Sarah into a standing position with John's help and they supported her as they walked out of the tunnel to find an ambulance.

Ella relinquished Sarah into the medics' care and cast her eyes around for Sherlock. She located him standing next to Detective Inspector Dimmock speaking rapidly.

She started toward him when she was intercepted by Mycroft.

"Ella, are you alright?" he asked her. The slight downward angle of his eyebrows was the only indicator of his worry.

"Yes, I think so." Ella replied softly.

Mycroft stared at her intently for a moment and the called "Dr. Watson! Your assistance is needed here."

John immediately started toward them. Sherlock, recognizing his brother's voice stopped mid-sentence to walk over as well.

"What? No, Mycroft. I'm fine." Ella protested feebly.

"You are not 'fine'." Mycroft stated sharply. "There are threads pulled out on the left side of your sweater, you are standing irregularly to slightly favor your left side, you appear to be breathing shallowly and you are crying." He finished.

"I'm crying?" Ella questioned as she brought her hands to her cheeks. Her fingers met with moisture. She didn't remember starting to cry.

"Dr. Watson, please examine Ella for a cracked rib on her left side." Mycroft said to John before giving Sherlock a pointed look and walking out of earshot.

John ushered Ella over to one of the ambulances to examine her.

"You were very brave tonight." John remarked as he lifted her sweater to view her ribs.

"I didn't do anything." Ella replied, drying her face with a paper towel John had handed her.

"You stood up to top level Chinese smugglers and you saved Sarah's life." John reminded her.

"Well, reasoning with them did little good." Ella said "And I couldn't have helped Sarah if Sherlock hadn't untied me first." She pointed out.

John shook his head at her inability to see how remarkable her actions were.

"Well, it appears as though your rib is bruised but not broken." John diagnosed. "I can't be sure though without an x-ray." He continued. "How did this happen anyway?"

"They threw us all into the car leaving Baker Street and I landed on the heel of one of Sarah's pumps." Ella explained.

John acknowledged her with a nod. "Well, phone me tomorrow and I'll meet you at the surgery to do a quick x-ray." he advised.

"Thank you, John." Ella said with a grateful smile as he helped her down out of the ambulance.

Mycroft and Sherlock were waiting outside for her. Ella was sure they had been arguing again. They both stood stiffly and looked extremely displeased with one another.

"You're alright." Sherlock said flatly as he visually inspected her for further injury. Ella nodded wearily in reply to the question he stated.

"Good." He responded simply.

"Ella, are you ready to go home?" Mycroft inquired.

"Quite ready." Ella breathed in exhaustion. She took his arm and they headed in the direction of Mycroft's black sedan.

"Oh, my bag and coat are at Baker Street." Ella remembered.

"Anthea will collect them for you." Mycroft assured her.

"Thank you." Ella said as she melted gratefully into the butter-soft leather seat of the car.

She leaned her head on Mycroft's shoulder and slipped into sleep before the car was in gear.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Ella awoke the next morning feeling as though she had been racked and then run over by a train. She groaned when she realized it was Monday and she had three classes to attend.

The pain in her ribs flared as she rolled out of bed. She staggered into the bathroom and groped blindly to turn on the water in her shower.

She felt marginally better after bathing. She dried herself gingerly and looked at her body in the mirror. Her injured ribs were highlighted by a large, ovular, purple bruise extending from just under her left breast to above her hip.

Ella grimaced. _At least it looks as awful as it feels._ She thought, as she wrapped herself in her robe.

She chose a comfortable pair of dark jeans and a flowing gray top to wear. She shot a quick glance out her window to see that it was raining steadily. _Wellies it is, then. _She grabbed her black rubber boots and started out of her bedroom in search of tea.

"How are you feeling this morning, my dear?" Mycroft greeted her when she reached the kitchen.

"I've been better." She replied stifling a yawn.

She was surprised that he was still home. Normally he was gone for the office by the time she emerged from her bedroom in the mornings.

Mycroft pushed a cup of tea in her direction. "Dr. Watson can give you something for the pain when you see him today." He said.

"I'm sure he can." Ella responded. "You know I won't take it." She continued as she sipped the steaming tea.

Ella had vowed to herself years prior, that she would never willingly ingest addictive pharmaceuticals. She remembered vividly what it was like watching Sherlock fall into drug addiction and how heart wrenching it was to witness his rehabilitation. She did not ever want her cousins to have to go through that with her, so she eliminated the risk completely by not ingesting anything addictive.

"Did Anthea have a chance to grab my things from Sherlock's?" Ella asked.

Mycroft nodded in the direction of the entryway.

Ella sorted through her bag and organized herself for the day full of classes she had ahead of her. She decided that taking Mycroft up on his open invitation to use his car would be easier than going through the trouble of catching a cab that morning.

"Good morning, Anthea." Ella greeted the woman wearily as she slid into the back seat of the car.

"Good morning." Anthea all but mumbled in reply.

She rolled her eyes and settled in for the silent ride to campus.

Ella made it through her first two classes of the day surprisingly well considering she was running on a serious sleep deficit. The course material kept her engaged as she actively took notes and participated in the class discussions.

She dreaded her final class of the day, Medieval Monarchies. Less than five minutes into the lecture, Ella was dozing.

"Late night?" a voice to her left jolted her awake.

She turned to look at the voice's owner. He was looking at her with amusement in his dark eyes.

"You could say that." She replied to him simply.

Ella's eyes swept over him. He appeared to be a few years older than she and very handsome. She took in his dark hair, the slight bit of stubble on his face, a neat button down shirt and gray trousers.

He looked to Ella like a business man. _A successful business man judging by his expensive watch, belt and shoes_. She noted to herself.

On the table in front of him lay one of the texts the class required as well as a notebook with worn corners.

"This lecture has nearly done me in as well." The man said in a soft Irish lilt.

"It's not exactly inspiring, is it?" Ella agreed with a smile.

"Richard Brook." He said with a charming half smile and an extended hand.

"It's lovely to meet you. I'm Ella Holmes."

Ella grasped his hand. The handshake was firm and she was relieved that Richard's palm wasn't clammy.

"Tell me, Ella. Would you be willing to discuss some of the course material with me?" Richard asked. "I think we could spend this hour more productively than sitting here."

Ella was hesitant to agree. She regarded Richard carefully, trying to discern if he was truly interested in studying with her or if he just wanted to "study" with her.

He gave off a genuine impression and she couldn't muster any negative gut feelings about him. In his eyes she saw honesty and a hint of something else that made her curious to find out more about him.

"Alright." She said, smiling. "I know a café a couple of blocks from here with a good menu and comfortable chairs."

Once at the café, they spent several hours discussing the course and other historical points of interest.

"I still feel that Pope Alexander VI should've been included on the syllabus." Ella said emphatically.

"No matter which way you look at it, the second Borgia papacy did not function as a monarchy." Richard disagreed.

"Of course it did!" Ella argued. "It functioned just as a traditional European monarchy and-"

"How could it?" Richard cut in. "Aside from the fact that the church was an entirely separate institution from secular governments, Italy wasn't even united for most of Alexander's papacy."

"The role that the papal institutions had in Italy at that time exactly mirrored what was happening in the major European monarchies." Ella insisted. "The Vatican operated as the court, the College of Cardinals was the parliament and the city-states acted as the feudal lords."

Richard leaned forward over the café table "Even if I were to concede that the functions were similar, we haven't even discussed the fact that Italy was in the midst of their Renaissance." He said with a teasing smirk.

"So?" Ella stared at him questioningly.

"The course is called Medieval Monarchies." He said; eyes alight with mirth. "But, I have a feeling that may be a debate for another afternoon." He finished as he looked at his watch.

"Oh, I hadn't noticed it was so late." Ella said after realizing they had spent several hours at the café.

"Will you let me buy you dinner? It's the least I can do after monopolizing your afternoon." Richard asked with an inviting smile.

Ella's stomach did a flip at the intense gaze he was focusing on her.

She briefly considered declining his invitation but Ella surprised herself when she realized that she was reluctant to end her afternoon with Richard.

That afternoon of lively debates was a treat for her. Ella rarely got to indulge her passion for history, as her cousins remained very much focused on the present; and she couldn't deny that Richard was a challenging (and attractive) debate partner.

"I'm not really dressed for dinner." Ella gestured to her jeans and wellies.

"Well, you said this place has a good menu." Richard replied.

"It does." Ella answered with a smile.

After placing their orders, Ella excused herself. "Richard, I need to make a quick call before our meal. Do you mind?"

"Of course not." He replied smiling amiably.

Ella walked to the restroom and pulled out her phone and placed a call to John to re-schedule her x-ray for the following day. Then, she typed a quick text to Mycroft.

_Don't hold dinner for me. I'm having sandwiches with a friend._

The reply came before she could exit the loo. She always marveled at the Holmes brothers' speed-of -light texting abilities.

_Which of your friends is this?_

Ella suppressed her feelings of annoyance at Mycroft's need to know everything about even the smallest aspects of her life.

_A new one._

She switched her phone's volume to silent and returned it to her pocket before emerging from the ladies' room.

"Sorry about that." Ella said as she slid back into her seat at the table.

"Not at all." Richard replied.

"So, what do you do, Richard?" Ella inquired.

"How do you know I'm not just a university student?" Richard asked, his lips pulled into a teasing smirk.

"Well, you're dressed like a business man." Ella responded. "Your watch and the quality of your shoes suggest that you're a successful one, at that." She continued. "You also look and carry yourself more maturely than the typical student."

Richard let out a wounded gasp as he clutched his heart, his dark eyes wide with mock surprise. "Barely into my thirties and the lady calls me old." He said in disbelief.

"No!" Ella laughed. "I called you mature."

"A euphemism if I've ever heard one…" Richard continued, shaking his head.

"It was meant to be a compliment." She clarified with a grin.

They continued chatting and laughing as their food arrived. Ella was intrigued to learn that Richard was the founder of the consulting company where he worked.

"When we are hired by a client, we go in and help them refine their business process. We provide expertise and resources so they can better achieve their objectives." He explained.

"What an interesting profession." Ella remarked. "It must be nice to have a job which offers something new every day."

"It is rarely boring." Richard agreed with a smile.

Ella remained engrossed in their conversation as Richard confided his heretofore neglected interest in history which led him to take the Medieval Monarchies class.

Finishing his meal, Richard leaned back in his seat and requested that Ella tell him about herself.

As she told him about her studies and her interests, she suddenly felt a bit boring and juvenile. Ella was normally a confident person but something about Richard made her a bit self-conscious. She wanted him to like her.

Richard didn't seem bored by her at all. As she told him about her plans for the future and about her family, his eyes remained focused on her as though she were the only person in the restaurant.

"Speaking of my cousin, he will send all the king's men after me if I'm not home soon." Ella said, checking the time.

"Well, we wouldn't want that." Richard replied with a sly grin.

He paid their bill as Ella shrugged on her coat and gathered her books and her bag.

"Can I give you a ride home?" Richard asked her.

"No, thank you. I'll just catch a cab." Ella answered as they stepped out into the cold, rainy night.

Richard motioned for her to wait in the shelter of the café's awning as he stepped out to the curb and hailed her a taxi.

As the cab came rolling to a stop in front of them, Ella darted out into the rain. "Thank you for dinner, I had a lovely time." She said to him sincerely.

"So did I." Richard replied, opening the door to the cab.

Ella moved to duck into the car when Richard stopped her by stepping forward.

"Good night, Ella Holmes." He said softly as he leaned close to her and brushed his lips against her right cheek.

Richard took a step to the side to allow Ella to slide into the back seat. Her lips curved upward into a smile as Richard shut the door after her.

As the taxi pulled out into traffic, Ella breathed as deeply as her sore rib would allow trying to slow her racing heart.


	7. Chapter 7

**I'd like to say thank you to all the readers who have stuck with this story so far. Your reviews have been so encouraging and are very much appreciated. **

Chapter Seven

Ella gathered her books, pens and highlighters as she exited her only class for the day. She was glad that she was in the habit of reading ahead in her course work because she had a difficult time remaining focused on the lecture that morning.

As she reached the edge of the campus, her mind kept wandering to her evening with Richard. She recalled their spirited discussion with a smile. She thought back to how intense his dark eyes were as he listened to her speak. She imagined she could still feel the slight scratchiness of the stubble on his face as his soft lips caressed her cheek and his breath tickled her ear.

She was snapped out of her reverie by the honking of a car horn. She looked around and realized that the cab she tried to hail had pulled over and was impatiently waiting on her to enter.

As the taxi carried her home, Ella decided that she needed to speak with Mycroft about Richard. She wasn't sure if they were going to keep seeing each other, but she did not want her chance for a romantic relationship ruined by Mycroft ambushing him, or worse, having someone "pick him up".

She fired off a quick text to her cousin.

_Lunch today? _

Mycroft's response was almost instant.

_I am busy._

This meant almost nothing to Ella. Mycroft was constantly busy. Unlike Sherlock, when Mycroft finished something he would immediately find (and often invent) ten more tasks to fill his time.

_Are you running-the-free-world-busy or are you putting-me-off-busy?_

Mycroft's answer made her smile.

_I am about-to-meet-with-the-royal-family-busy._

_Tell Her Majesty that I say 'Hello'. Love you :)_

Adding the emoticon, Ella knew she would not get a response. There was little that irritated the Holmes brothers more than emoticons and texting acronyms. Lucky for them, Ella couldn't stand the shorthand acronyms either. But she did enjoy imagining their reactions whenever she snuck smiley face into a text to one of them.

As she let herself into the house, Ella began to plan the remainder of her day. John went in for a shift at the surgery at three so she planned to meet him then for her x-ray.

She had several hours before that and she did still want to get a thesis topic picked out. So, Ella gathered her most useful texts and spread them all out on her bed. She dug her notebook out of her bag along with her pen. She was settled in and ready to dive into her books when her mind again drifted back to Richard.

She thought back to the teasing look on his face during their debate about Pope Alexander VI. She couldn't understand how he didn't see the parallels between that papacy and the contemporary monarchies. He was clearly intelligent but -

Then it hit her; _that _could be the subject of her thesis. She could explore the role of the second Borgia papacy in diplomacy with the European monarchies, or the papacy's part in the unification of Italy, or the influence of the papacy in the progression of the Italian renaissance…

Ella's mind brimmed with ideas and she scribbled furiously trying to get all of her thoughts onto paper. She spent the next hours refining her topics and listing possible textual references, resources and advisors.

Ella reviewed her notes with satisfaction. She had re-ordered and condensed her ideas down to two possible subjects for her thesis.

_Thank you, Richard_. She thought to herself with a smile, as she rose from her bed and ambled to the kitchen.

As she made herself half of a sandwich, Ella re-assessed her tasks list. Since making great strides in the area of her master's thesis, Ella had nothing left on her agenda.

She still had a bit of time before John's shift at the surgery so she decided to go over to Baker Street a bit early.

A short cab ride later found her mounting the steps to 221B.

She was only mildly surprised to enter the flat to the sight of a disgruntled Sherlock carefully placing what appeared to be a human head into his refrigerator.

"Another experiment?" Ella inquired.

"I'm going to measure the coagulation of saliva after death." He said in an irritated tone as he tried to place the head on the refrigerator shelf just-so.

Ella shook her head with a chuckle. "You know I love you, Sherlock but this is one of those instances that explain why I'm living with Mycroft."

Sherlock shut the door to the fridge and turned around with a distracted, perplexed look on his face.

"Mycroft doesn't tend to store human remains with our food." Ella clarified.

Sherlock waived her off as he seated himself at the dining table and sorted through a small bin.

Ella hoped that he wasn't too distracted to speak with her. She wanted to enlist his help with keeping Mycroft in check with regards to Richard.

"Sherlock-" she started hesitantly.

"You've met someone." He cut her off without looking up from his task.

"Wha-well… yes. Maybe." Ella answered. She mentally berated herself for still being caught off guard by some of her cousin's deductions.

"Hello, Ella! You're looking well today." John said cheerfully as he entered the kitchen from his bedroom.

"She's met someone." Sherlock stated.

Ella took a slow breath as she tried to smother her feelings of annoyance.

John smiled at her with his brows slightly furrowed in confusion. "That's nice. Where did you meet him?" he asked politely.

Ella was poised to respond when Sherlock answered for her in a superior tone "Isn't it obvious, John? She met him at the university."

Ella continued to fight her irritation as Sherlock proceeded to explain his deductions about the 'how' and 'where' of Ella's meeting with Richard.

"Sherlock, we all know you're brilliant. You really don't have to parade your skills here when it's just us." Ella reminded him testily.

His only answer was a brief, withering glance before he turned his attention back to his experiment.

"Right, well, I'll just be through here." John said uneasily as he gestured toward the living room. I'll be leaving for the clinic in about 5 minutes, Ella if you wanted to catch a ride with me."

"Sounds perfect, John." Ella called to him as he made his exit.

"Sherlock, I wanted to ask for your help with Mycroft." Ella tried to steer the conversation back to its point.

Sherlock replied smartly "What? I thought he was a great deal easier to live with than I am. With the lack of body par-"

"Sherlock! Seriously!" Ella half-yelled in exasperation trying to get his attention.

She tried to rein in her irritation as her voice returned to a normal volume. "Will you please help me keep Mycroft from threatening and/or kidnapping my friend?"

"Your friend?" Sherlock questioned doubtfully with a smirk on his face.

"I don't know what he is to me yet. We've only been out once. I'd prefer to see where things go naturally without Mycroft scaring him off!" Ella explained tightly.

She stared at her cousin. Their gazes locked as they each tried to determine what the other was thinking.

"I'll see what I can do." Sherlock finally replied as he turned back to his bin on the table.

"Thank you." Ella sighed gratefully. She walked into the living room to see if John was ready to leave.

Sherlock stared blankly at the box of thumbs in front of him. It had been several minutes since he heard Ella call out that she loved him as she and John left the flat.

He had been thinking of how adamant Ella was about keeping Mycroft away from her new 'friend'. Normally she wasn't so insistent when men entered the picture. This one must be different.

Sherlock considered her request. He rarely had cause to be in agreement with his brother, but on the subject of Ella and boyfriends, he found they were usually of the same mind. Ella had endeared herself to both Holmes brothers and they were quite suspicious of any other male presence in her life.

Sherlock thought back to his childhood. He recalled the day that Ella became an important component in his life.

_It had been three weeks since his cousin had come to live with them. He remembered with disgust how his mother had paraded her around the estate when she arrived. He was annoyed that his mother spent so much time with her new 'pretty baby'. Sherlock didn't think she was pretty at all. _

_He didn't understand why everyone was so taken with her. Even Mycroft seemed to like her. She was just a toddler. He had tried deducing her and had concluded that she was perfectly ordinary. Perfectly boring. _

_What was not boring to Sherlock was the behavior of the housekeeper. He had seen Mrs. Gates slip one of his father's valuable antique trinkets into her purse before leaving one day. She had also stopped being friendly to Sherlock and said she no longer had time to talk to him. _

_Sherlock had been tailing her for more than a month trying to figure out the reason behind the woman's theft and her change in attitude. _

_He tried filing through the information he had gathered over the previous weeks. He knew he had the tools to solve this case in his brain. He knew he could figure out why Mrs. Gates had suddenly become so distant and agitated when she had only been nice to Sherlock in the past. _

_Sherlock grew frustrated with himself as he lost focus._

_He tried running through his mental bank of information again only to be distracted once more as he heard his mother put the baby in her room. His cousin had started to fuss._

_Sherlock was so tired of hearing her cry. He would never be able to figure out the mystery of Mrs. Gates if he had no peace and quiet in which to think!_

_Sherlock marched up the stairs toward the nursery. He let himself into the room. When the baby noticed him enter, she stopped crying._

_"I don't like you." Sherlock said to her scathingly. She didn't seem to notice his hostility as she stared at him with large blue eyes. _

_"You must stop crying now." He ordered as he turned to leave._

_The toddler saw that he was leaving and started to sob again. Sherlock realized that she must be upset at being left alone in the nursery. He stood in the doorway and faced his cousin. Her cries ceased. _

_Sherlock gave a dramatic sigh and arranged himself in a comfortable seated position in the doorway and looked at the little girl in the crib. She gazed back at him with her red, tear stained face but did not cry. _

_Sherlock reasoned he could think through his case with Mrs. Gates on the threshold of the nursery so long as his cousin remained quiet. _

_Thus they sat for about half an hour before Sherlock pounded his fist against the wood floor in frustration. He still couldn't focus, he couldn't find the answer! _

_"Tok!" The girl suddenly shouted. _

_Sherlock peered at his cousin with a look of disgust on his face. _

_"Tok, tok, tok….tok!" The toddler repeated in a high, lilting voice._

_"No, you mustn't talk." Sherlock replied disdainfully. "If you want company, you'll have to be quiet."_

_He wasn't sure if she understood him as she stared at him with wide eyes in fascination, as though he had just said the most interesting thing in the world._

_"You mustn't talk, but I can." Sherlock thought aloud. _

_He began to verbally work through what information he knew about Mrs. Gates. His speech was not necessarily sensible as he punctuated his statements with exclamations, irregular lists and rhetorical questions._

_The toddler watched silently as Sherlock deduced the answer._

_"Of course!" He cried as he jumped up from his seat on the floor. "She stole father's trinket because her son needed money for his drug dealing creditors! Mrs. Gates must be so angry because he's moved back into her house and brought his problems home with him!" _

_Sherlock marveled at how helpful verbalization was in focusing his thoughts as he raced down the hall to his father's study to share his discoveries about their housekeeper and her errant son. _

Ella had helped him work through countless cases since then. She was always quiet and she listened well to the nonsensical monologues he issued while he filtered through his mind palace for information.

_No._ Sherlock thought. _I don't think I will deter my brother from investigating Ella's new 'friend_'.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

As the morning light filtered into her bedroom through her curtains, Ella burrowed deeper into the duvet and sighed contentedly. She thought back to the previous day and smiled as her stomach did a small leap of excitement.

_She had been delighted to see Richard sitting in the lecture hall when she entered their Medieval Monarchies class. He caught her gaze and she felt her lips curve upward of their own accord._

_Richard's lips were poised in an attractive half smile and his dark eyes followed her as she approached and took the seat next to him._

_He was dressed in a full suit and Ella took a moment to appreciate the virtues of bespoke menswear. _

_"Hello, Ella Holmes." He greeted. Ella was startled by the depth of expression in his brown eyes. _

_"Hello, Richard." She answered as she tried to keep her small smile from turning into a full, un-ladylike grin. _

_"I was looking forward to continuing our discussion from Monday, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to skip out on my dose of history today." Richard said regretfully._

_Ella felt mild disappointment set in as her hopes for a repeat of their pleasant afternoon were dashed. She quickly covered her negative feelings and responded lightly. _

_"Well, I hope you don't expect me to take notes for you." Ella said with a teasing smile. _

_"Oh, no!" Richard denied, eyes widening with false indignation. "I wouldn't dream of asking it."_

_Richard leaned into her as though he was about to share a secret. Ella's breath caught in her throat as her heartbeat began to quicken at his proximity. _

_"I've taken a cue from the 'Ella Holmes Method'." Richard said softly with a conspiratorial grin. "I read two chapters ahead in the text."_

_"Well, I hear that's the best thing you can do if you've got a class with an unbearable lecture." Ella responded in mock seriousness matching his hushed tone. "Though I'm sorry to see you go."_

_"And I'm sorry that work is pulling me away." Richard's voice returned to a normal volume as he sat upright. "I've got a potentially explosive project beginning tomorrow and I need to finish some last minute preparations while I can today." He explained apologetically. "But I did want to see you so that I could give you this." _

_He pulled a plain white envelope out of his jacket pocket. Ella extended her hand to take the proffered item. _

_She looked up at him as he moved to leave. _

_"I will see you soon." Richard said with a knowing gleam in his eyes and an asymmetrical smile on his lips. _

_Ella didn't notice when the professor started his lecture. Her attention was entirely consumed by the envelope in her hands. _

_She turned it over and examined it carefully. It was unmarked. Ella could tell by the tightly compressed fibers that the envelope was of high quality. The smooth feel of the thick, heavy paper reminded her of some stationary she bought while visiting the Czech Republic a few years prior. _

_Ella delicately broke the seal on the envelope to peer inside. _

_She extracted a calling card of sorts. It was small and rectangular but was not printed as she expected. Rather, it was hand lettered and simply read "Richard" and listed a phone number. _

_Ella smiled and carefully set the card aside._

_The second slip of paper she pulled from the envelope was a concert ticket. Ella's eyes widened in surprise. In her hand was a VIP pass to a show that weekend. It was being put on by her favorite band. The event had long been sold out and Ella had resigned herself to not attending. _

_She was surprised that Richard was able to procure such hotly demanded passes to the concert. It was to be the last concert given by the band as the musicians were taking a break from their music to spend time with their growing families. _

_Ella was excited as she reached into the envelope for the final item inside. It was a small map. It looked as though it had been cut out of a larger map of London. A restaurant on the map was circled. Ella was familiar with the exclusive tapas bar that was highlighted but she had never been. At the top of the paper was a simple message written in the same hand as the calling card. It read "7:00 pm?"_

_Ella grinned. She had a date. _

Ella smiled at the memory. She slowly stretched and removed herself from the comfort of her bed. As she ambled to the bathroom and waited for the water for her shower to heat, she reflected on how perfectly her day had gone even after Richard's invitation.

She was still surprised at the outcome of her talk with Mycroft. He had not protested when she had asked him not to approach (or have anyone in his employ approach) Richard. He had agreed remarkably easily to stay out of her potential relationship.

Ella suspected he had already found out Richard's identity and had his background extensively searched, but she would take what she could get. If she was honest with herself, she found it comforting knowing that Mycroft had likely already looked into Richard's records and found nothing that would warrant his kidnapping.

After her shower Ella felt invigorated. That, combined with her residual elation from the exceptional previous day, had her nearly skipping into the kitchen to make herself some tea.

She had no classes that day so she took the time to make an omelet for breakfast. She hummed as she chopped her ingredients, thinking about her upcoming date with Richard. Ella's cheerfulness persisted as she cooked and ate her meal of eggs and made herself a second cup of tea.

She cupped the warm porcelain cup with both hands as she moved into the living room and folded herself onto the plush leather sofa. She flipped on the telly and let the news drone in her ears as she began to plan her day.

She was brimming with energy that morning so she planned to take advantage of it and stop at the gym to catch a Pilates class. She also thought it would be fun to go shopping in search of an outfit for her date. Perhaps she would stop by the university to speak to a couple of professors about advising her through her master's thesis as well...

Suddenly, the news anchor's voice caught her attention and she focused her eyes on the screen.

"There's been a massive explosion in central London." The camera was cycling through images of damaged homes. The headline at the bottom of the screen read "House Destroyed on Baker Street".

Ella felt her heart plummet to her gut.


End file.
